Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 19: Chapter 19
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 19: Chapter 19. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
("We stood so close,
I could hear her breath in the space between us.
And still, neither of us moved.
Because almost is safer than the fall.")
It was late again—well past midnight.
Jade had walked Leah home after their café awkwardness faded into apology and quiet laughter. The air was cold enough to bite but not enough to shiver, just enough to keep them walking close, shoulders brushing now and then.
They stopped just outside Leah’s apartment building.
Neither of them spoke.
The city hummed around them—cars passing, a dog barking in the distance, the soft hiss of traffic lights changing. But it all felt far away.
All that mattered was the two of them standing under a streetlight, inches apart, with too many things unsaid between them.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Leah said softly.
Jade shook her head. “Don’t be. I liked that you cared.”
Leah looked at her. Really looked.
There was something in Jade’s eyes again. That vulnerable openness that made Leah’s chest feel too tight for her ribs. That silent invitation. That unbearable tenderness.
She wanted to reach out. Wanted to take Jade’s face in her hands and pull her in.
She could already imagine how it would feel—soft, hesitant, heart-racing.
But she didn’t move.
And neither did Jade.
Instead, Leah whispered, “Do you ever wonder why we keep stopping ourselves?”
Jade’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “All the time.”
Leah exhaled. “Then why don’t we just…?”
The words hung there like a question and a challenge and a prayer.
Jade stepped closer.
So close their noses almost touched. So close Leah could feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint trace of lavender from Jade’s hoodie.
And then—nothing.
No kiss.
No pull.
Just silence.
Just longing.
Just restraint wrapped around a moment that could’ve broken everything wide open.
After a long pause, Jade whispered, “Because once we cross that line, there’s no going back.”
Leah felt her throat tighten. “Would you want to go back?”
Jade didn’t answer right away.
Then she said, so quietly it nearly disappeared into the night, “No. That’s what scares me.”
They stood like that a few seconds more.
Two girls on the edge of something real, too afraid to jump—but even more afraid to walk away.
And finally, Leah stepped back.
“Goodnight,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jade nodded. “Goodnight, Leah.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
And the kiss they didn’t share burned louder than any kiss they ever would.
There are moments so heavy with almost
they leave you aching.
And sometimes, it’s the almost
that tells you how deep the fall could be—
if only you let go.
I could hear her breath in the space between us.
And still, neither of us moved.
Because almost is safer than the fall.")
It was late again—well past midnight.
Jade had walked Leah home after their café awkwardness faded into apology and quiet laughter. The air was cold enough to bite but not enough to shiver, just enough to keep them walking close, shoulders brushing now and then.
They stopped just outside Leah’s apartment building.
Neither of them spoke.
The city hummed around them—cars passing, a dog barking in the distance, the soft hiss of traffic lights changing. But it all felt far away.
All that mattered was the two of them standing under a streetlight, inches apart, with too many things unsaid between them.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Leah said softly.
Jade shook her head. “Don’t be. I liked that you cared.”
Leah looked at her. Really looked.
There was something in Jade’s eyes again. That vulnerable openness that made Leah’s chest feel too tight for her ribs. That silent invitation. That unbearable tenderness.
She wanted to reach out. Wanted to take Jade’s face in her hands and pull her in.
She could already imagine how it would feel—soft, hesitant, heart-racing.
But she didn’t move.
And neither did Jade.
Instead, Leah whispered, “Do you ever wonder why we keep stopping ourselves?”
Jade’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “All the time.”
Leah exhaled. “Then why don’t we just…?”
The words hung there like a question and a challenge and a prayer.
Jade stepped closer.
So close their noses almost touched. So close Leah could feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint trace of lavender from Jade’s hoodie.
And then—nothing.
No kiss.
No pull.
Just silence.
Just longing.
Just restraint wrapped around a moment that could’ve broken everything wide open.
After a long pause, Jade whispered, “Because once we cross that line, there’s no going back.”
Leah felt her throat tighten. “Would you want to go back?”
Jade didn’t answer right away.
Then she said, so quietly it nearly disappeared into the night, “No. That’s what scares me.”
They stood like that a few seconds more.
Two girls on the edge of something real, too afraid to jump—but even more afraid to walk away.
And finally, Leah stepped back.
“Goodnight,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jade nodded. “Goodnight, Leah.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
And the kiss they didn’t share burned louder than any kiss they ever would.
There are moments so heavy with almost
they leave you aching.
And sometimes, it’s the almost
that tells you how deep the fall could be—
if only you let go.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 19. Continue reading Chapter 20 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.